Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds
by Ryah Ignis
Summary: In which: Lucy Cole realizes that the diamonds are nothing more than heartless, unfeeling rocks in space, her life becomes more like Eleanor Rigby's, and the yellow submarine that is Earth starts to drown. Lucy Saxon was always more than just the Prime Minister's wife.
1. Chapter 1

**Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds**

"**Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes/and she's gone."**

"You need to get out more, Luce."

Johanna drew the makeup brush across her eyelids in a swift, practiced motion, leaving a shimmery sheen of robin's egg blue across the skin. Lucy was too busy examining her reflection in her sister's full length mirror to bother with an answer. The simple yet striking black dress Johanna had lent her fit perfectly (with the aid of several well-placed pins) but in her opinion, it was too low cut. She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled.

Johanna rolled her perfectly done-up eyes as she expertly applied a layer of lipstick.

"It looks fine, Luce, stop tugging. You'll undo all by hard work."

Wobbly as a baby deer in her (well, Johanna's) heels, Lucy made her way over to stand behind her sister. The two faces in the round mirror could not have been more different.

"I don't want to go," she protested, grabbing the back of Johanna's chair to support herself.

"Oh, come on, it'll be fun," her sister insisted. "Lots of boring politicians and lawyers and the like all over the place—you'll be right at home."

Lucy ignored the unintentional jibe and focused on keeping herself upright instead. Johanna had zero tact with anyone, least of all her baby sister. Lucy had learned to tune her out.

"Why are you going, then?" she asked rather than protest.

"Two words—finger food. That, and Robert invited me."

"Isn't that seven wor—" began Lucy, but before she could finish, Johanna leaped to her feet.

"Let's go, then," she said brightly. "We don't want to be late."

The party was every bit as dreadful as Lucy had imagined. Wonderfully important people chattered on about wonderfully important things. People just as dynamic as Johanna went on about dynamic things. And then there was her, standing in the middle of it all, observing it over the rim of her empty glass of champagne, waiting for a server to fill it again so she could toast yet another wonderfully important or dynamic person.

"Johanna! Er…Lottie, come here. There's someone I'd like you to meet."

Robert, Johanna's fiancé, waved the two women over. Johanna fluttered over to his side. Lucy moved slowly, not bothering to correct him on her name. She was still focusing on not falling.

"Johanna and Lottie Cole, meet Harold Saxon."

For the first time in Lucy's life, someone moved directly past Johanna in order to shake her hand first. Something flared inside in her chest and she smiled.

"It's Lucy," she said, taking his hand. "Not Lottie."

"I prefer Lucy," he replied.

Rather than shake her hand, he kissed it. Mildly surprised by the old-fashioned gesture, she shot Johanna a covert look. Her oblivious sister responded with a not-so-covert thumbs up. Lucy was happily aware that Mr. Saxon's hand remained in hers longer than was strictly necessary. He greeted Johanna the same way, but that did nothing to quench the pleasant glowing in her chest.

"Harry here is set to be Minister if all goes well, aren't you?"

Mr. Saxon gave a humble laugh.

"I should hope."

Robert and Mr. Saxon talked business for a while. Lucy listened intently. Most of the information, being rather hush-hush, went over her head, but she picked up on what she could. Johanna's eyes began to get a little glazed.

"I'll leave you to it, then," Mr. Saxon said, turning away. Then he paused and looked back. "Unless, of course, you'd like to dance, Miss Cole."

Lucy stared at him. He held out his hand invitingly. Johanna nudged Lucy forward, the most subtle thing she'd ever done in her life. Lucy took his hand.

"So, Miss Cole," he said, leading her on to the dance floor, "how are you employed?"

"I'm an interior designer," she explained. "Houses and such."

"What else is there?" he teased. "Schools?'

"Hospitals?" she added.

"Stores?"

She laughed and he smirked. The song abruptly changed from a dance tune to a slow song. Lucy saw Johanna near the speakers, handing a man some money. She made a note to kill her later. Mr. Saxon didn't hesitate to pull her closer.

"So what does the future Minister of Defense do?" she asked with a confidence she'd never felt before.

"At the moment," he said, swinging her in an effortless dip, "he designs an airship."

"Very sci-fi," she observed.

He laughed.

"Oh yes. I'm calling it the Valiant."

"Elegant," Lucy said.

Another two songs went by in the blink of an eye. Lucy wouldn't have noticed the passing of time if it wasn't for her feet, which were quite heartily protesting the heels.

"Would you like to rest?" he asked after she stumbled for the umpteenth time.

"Yes, thank you."

He offered her his arm and they headed for the patio. On the way, he snagged two champagne glasses.

Lucy took the seat he offered her on the white bench. She wrapped her arms around herself. The summer night had gotten cold without her notice. Without a second thought, Mr. Saxon shrugged off his suit jacket and placed it around her shoulders before sitting down beside her.

"The stars are bright tonight," she said, tipping her head back to observe.

The night was completely devoid of clouds and the stars seemed closer then ever. Lucy lifted her hand slightly as if to touch them, but drew back just as quickly, realizing how foolish it looked. Mr. Saxon only chuckled.

"Do you want to touch the stars, Miss Cole?" he asked.

He wasn't teasing, this time. Lucy allowed her finger to traced a pattern from distant dot to distant dot.

"They're so beautiful."

"Everything's beautiful from far away," he said. "But, if you get close enough, the stars are dead. Gone."

A shiver ran up her spine.

"But you can still see them," she said. "There's always a memory, here. A record they existed."

He laughed again. Lucy smiled up at the stars.

"You're going to see the stars," he said, though it sounded like a promise.

"Oh?" Lucy asked. "Are you going to build a rocket after that airship?"

He smirked. "I don't need something as primitive as a rocket."

He stood up abruptly and offered her his hand.

"What've you got, then?"

"You, Lucy Cole, have no idea."


	2. Chapter 2

**Across the Universe**

**Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes/They call me on and on across the universe**

On Christmas Day, there were two Time Lords looking up at the ash so frequently mistaken as snow, one in pride and one in horror. Each of them had a human companion at their side, though for two very different reasons.

"Were you scared?" Lucy asked, fussing over him, straightening his suit jacket.

"Of course not," he said dismissively. "They would have hurt you, Lucy. They deserved it."

Lucy shuddered, the terrible hour where she had not been in control of her own mind rising unbidden in her memory. She had been trapped at the back of her mind, powerless to control anything but horrifyingly aware of every movement, driving her closer and closer to the edge of her window.

"I can't believe…aliens, Harold!"

Suddenly the idea of touching the stars seemed much less appealing.

"And you?" he asked. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "I just….I'll be fine."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her outside her flat. Lucy didn't protest. She couldn't look at that window, knowing just how close she'd come to toppling over the edge.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Out. The press will be all over your flat. They're all very eager to speak with the man who shot down the aliens, and quite frankly I have no interest in speaking with them."

It was amazing just how far Harold had gotten over the past six months. He'd finished the building plan of the Valiant, overseen construction, and been promoted to Minister of Defense, just as Robert had predicted. With the latest developments, Lucy wouldn't be surprised if he _did _become Prime Minister like Johanna always joked.

Harold led her down the city streets, still bustling with frantic people checking on relatives and friends they hadn't been able to reach by telephone. With his usual quick, decisive movements, Harold carved a neat path through the crowd. People moved out of his way almost instinctively, as if they could sense his authority. For her part, Lucy followed along in his wake.

"Here we are," Harold said at last, stopping in front of what looked like a large blue telephone box.

Lucy glanced at the white lettering in in confusion.

"Police Public Call?"

"It's a police box," he said, touching the handle with a fond smile. "More importantly, it's a disguise."

He fished a key out his jacket pocket and stuck it in the lock. The door opened. She stared unblinkingly into the impossible interior.

"How…?" she began.

Harold tugged her inside and shut the door behind him. Lucy tilted her head back to look at the ceiling, her mind rebelling against what her eyes were telling her.

"Harold, what—'

"It's alien," he said, running his fingers over the console.

Lucy was suddenly struck with an intense feeling of dislike along with the crawling of her skin. She shivered. Harold frowned.

"Acting up again, old girl?" he asked, but Lucy had the feeling he wasn't talking to her. "Telepathic field."

"Tele—Harold, what? Where'd you get it?"

"I stole her," he said frankly. Then, upon seeing her expression, he added, "Well, stole her back. The owner had stolen her in the first place."

She nodded uncomprehendingly, reminded of her last few Maths classes coasting along, pretending to have the slightest idea what she was talking about. Harold sensed this and elaborated.

"It's called a TARDIS. Time and Relative Dimension in Space."

Lucy frowned. "TRDS?"

"TARDIS sounded better. We're the last things left of Gallifrey."

"Gallifrey?"

"It was a planet."

It took a few seconds for what he said to click, but when it did, all Lucy could do was gape.

"You said we're the last things of Gallifrey. We."

"Yes, Lucy, I did."

"Harold—"

He took her hand and placed it on his chest. _Thump-thump._

"I don't—"

He took her other hand and did the same, but on the other side of his chest. _Thump-thump. Thump-thump._

"Two," she whispered. "You're not human."

"Time Lord."

"Oh. Harold?"

"Yes?"

"What does that mean?"

He dropped her hands and returned to the console, flipping switches and pressing buttons in a seemingly random order. The odd sense of discomfort that Lucy had experienced the last time he'd touched the controls returned, but subdued, as if the ship had taken heed of his words.

Lucy heavily sat down on the odd grated flooring and resigned herself to being completely confused. A strange buzzing sound filled the air, but Lucy was too dazed to care.

"Why does he always leave the handbrake on?" Harold asked of nobody in particular. "Honestly, you'd think he _wants _her to dump him in 1876 and never make another trip. Are you coming, Lucy dear?"

"Coming?"

He left the controls and took her hand again. Lucy allowed him to pull her to her feet.

"Welcome to the end of the universe," he said, throwing open the door.

Lucy instinctively took a step back and curled her fingers around the soft material of his jacket. There was no ground beneath the ship, nor anywhere else for that matter. All Lucy could see (and as far, she suspected, as _anything _could see, even a Time Whatever) was inky blackness, populated with far less stars than she remembered.

"Where are we?" asked Lucy cautiously, still gripping his jacket as if her life depended on it.

"It's the year 100 trillion by human reckoning," he said. "The stars are going out. Everything's ending."

Lucy stared out of the TARDIS, jaw open.

"Is this the only ending?"

He nodded.

"So everything we do…every accomplishment just…burns? What about Earth? Can't we stop it?"

"Earth's been gone for millennia now."

He steered her a little closer to the edge and sat down, his feet dangling over the side. Lucy stared out into the abyss a little apprehensively. After a moment where he didn't get sucked into a black hole or burned by a sun, she joined him.

"Mum and Dad and Johanna are dead. _I'm _dead. So that's it, then. It just ends."

"Not with a bang, but a whimper."

Lucy felt as if someone had carved a hole in her stomach. Nothing mattered—it all turned to dust eventually. It struck her just how tiny she was.

"I'll write your name across the stars," he said suddenly. "Lucy Saxon, queen of the universe."

The sound of her name paired with his filled the hollowness in her gut. Lucy leaned against his shoulder and admired the stars.

As long as they were there to admire.


	3. Chapter 3

**Yellow Submarine**

**We all live in a yellow submarine/yellow submarine yellow submarine**

Everything had been leading up to this moment. All the false smiles, interviews, endless debates, advertisements and acting for the cameras had set them up for this. The ultimate victory. But why, then, did it feel so wrong?

The ring on her finger felt like a bowling ball, weighing down her conscience. Harry practically bounded around his newest prisoners with that maniac energy that had endeared Lucy to him in the first placed.

"Of course I can't let you have that," Harry said, rummaging around in his captive's pockets.

Lucy's eyes widened with every object he pulled out. Harry tossed a rubber chicken over his shoulder, which landed at Lucy's feet. She nudged it experimentally, waiting for something bizarre to happen. Nothing did.

There was a loud _snap! _and Lucy looked up in time to see Harry pull the mouse trap off his fingers, swearing loudly. The Doctor only smirked. Next came a packet of Jelly Babies, which Harry stowed away in his own pockets.

"I was wondering where they'd gotten off to," commented the Doctor absently. "Those _might _be older than your wife."

The next thing Harry pulled out was a small wallet-like object. He flipped it open and read the writing inside.

"Lovely sentiments, Doctor," he said, throwing it too.

Lucy stooped down and scooped it up. When she saw what was written there, she almost dropped it again.

_Lucy, I need your help. Listen, we can end this, put Earth back the way it's supposed to be. Help me, and I swear he'll never touch you again. I promise._

Lucy snapped it shut. The Doctor dropped his gaze. She thought she saw a flash of disappointment on his face.

"Ah, there we are," Harry said, withdrawing a strange silver device. "Lucy, if you'll do the honors."

He tossed it at her, and mimed breaking it. Lucy caught it, took a deep breath and complied. It gave a loud crack and snapped. The Doctor winced as if it had been one of his fingers.

"What to do with you?" mused Harry, approaching the man who had come in with the Doctor.

To his credit, the other didn't move, or protest. He just stared back with equal cold disinterest, ignoring the two guards who had a grip on his arms.

"Take him to the boiler room and make sure he doesn't get away. Lucy, go with them. I'm not sure I trust the staff yet."

Lucy watched impassively as the two guards chained the man's hands above his head, muttering apologies. Lucy was no expert, but it seemed to her that using the guards already on the Valiant was a very poor idea. They had no loyalty to her husband. They could turn on him without a moment's notice. They ducked out as soon as they could. Lucy meticulously checked over the restraints.

"Got a name, sweetheart?"

The way he said 'sweetheart' was sympathetic, kind, as if he were far older and wiser than she.

"Lucy," she introduced herself with a clipped voice. "And you?"

She wasn't sure why she was talking with him, but did it anyway.

"Jack Harkness—captain."

She raised her eyebrows. "Of what?"

"Ex-captain, then," he said. "You're his wife?"

She nodded.

"What is it with Time Lords and blondes?" he asked the ceiling. "Lucy, he's bad. Not leather jacket rides-a-motorcycle, I mean evil."

Lucy pretended not to have heard as she checked over the chains one last time.

"I made my choice. For better or for worse," she said, echoing her words from the previous day to Vivian Rook.

Later that night, she and Harry sat on the observation deck of the Valiant, completely alone for the first time that day. Lucy took a delicate sip of her wine and stared out at the sunset.

"Breathtaking view," she told Harry.

"Only the best," he said.

The silence lasted for about a minute. Lucy worried her lip, wondering if it would be all right for her to ask. Finally, she worked up the courage.

"Who is he?"

Harry didn't need to ask who she was talking about.

"An old friend—well, enemy."

"Why not just…"

"Kill him?" Harry asked, eyes fixed on the fading sunset. He took a deep sip of his drink. "He's the only other one there is. And I want him to see my victory. To victory, Lucy!"

They clinked glasses and Lucy obediently finished hers off. The last rays of sunlight vanished, replaced by the stars. Every night, Lucy breathed a sigh of relief that there were still as many as she remembered.

"Johanna's down there, somewhere," Lucy said softly.

"So she is."

Lucy shrank back in her chair. Her sister could be dead, and he didn't even care!

Both Jack and the Doctor had asked for her help, and for a moment, Lucy wanted to give it.

"What did she ever do for you, Lucy?" he asked as if sensing her thoughts. "Always second best, always passed over. You didn't deserve that, Lucy. You're Lucy Saxon now. Whatever happens to them doesn't matter anymore. They only held you down. You owe them nothing, Lucy."

Lucy remembered every jibe Johanna had ever made, every time her sister had mocked her for her bland fashion sense, or her soft voice, every time she'd come second to Robert or other boyfriends as kids, every time she'd ever felt inadequate. Any fear she'd had for her sister vanished abruptly.

It must have shown in her face, because Harry patted her arm.

"There's a good girl," he said.

Lucy mustered a false smile and allowed him to describe his day taunting world leaders about the unsettling switch of power. She practiced tucking her emotions away in a little box that became increasingly difficult to open. She held up the same dull smile that had been her part to play on the campaign. She ignored the whispers amongst the disloyal staff that she was broken, brainwashed. Lucy Saxon became a china doll, smiling until the moment she struck the floor in six pieces.


	4. Chapter 4

**Eleanor Rigby**

**Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice at the church where a wedding has been/Lives in a dream/Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door/Who is it for?**

Lucy's china doll façade cracked exactly once during the year that she spent aboard the Valiant. She woke from a particularly vivid dream which featured Johanna and the Toclafane with a sharp cry which she stifled the moment she realized what she was doing.

Struggling out from underneath her husband's arm, which lately seemed more possessive then protective, Lucy slipped out of bed. She pulled her robe, which had once belonged to be a movie star who'd been wiped out in the first wave, over her nightdown. Treading carefully for fear of waking her sleeping husband, Lucy eased open the door and walked into the hallway.

Like the rest of the Valiant, the hall was locked in perpetual artificial sunlight. Blinking in the brightness, Lucy made her way along the halls, going nowhere in particular, but finidng herself unable to stop. She was so, so tired. Of the way her husband looked past her more often than at her, of the glares she received from all the members of the unwilling Valiant staff. She missed her family and and grass and flowers and the feel of sun on her skin and the man her husband used to be.

She found herself on the bridge. ONy two men were at the controls, the same two that had secured Jack on the long-ago day that her husband had conquered the world.

"Mrs. Saxon, are you all right?" asked the younger of the two, face concerned.

"Get out."

"Pardon me?" asked the other.

"I said," she repeated, gritting her teeth, "get out."

"We're not supposed to leave our posts, ma'am," said the older of the two, stepping a little closer to his companion as if to protect him, his eyes darting from her to the controls.

"Leave!" Lucy shouted at them.

Shooting her glances over their shoudlers the two guards scurried out of the room as fast as their legs could carry them. Lucy collapsed into one of the chairs and tried to compose herself.

She let out a choked sob and dropped her head into her arms. It was like a floodgate had opened. Tears traced their way down her cheeks. It felt wonderful to let go and break down. Once she started, she oculn't stop. She knew in her heart that Johanna was dead, probably since the first day. And what bout her dad? With his heart the way it was, it might not have been the Toclafane at all!  
"Lucy?"

She started. "I told you to leave."

"I'm not sure your husband would like that," he replied.

Lucy lifted her head form her arms and looked at him through blurry, reddened eyes. The Doctor sat at the mouth of his tent, legs drawn painfully up to his chest. Therew asn't any malice in his gaze, only pity. Lucy got shakily to her feet and made her way over to him.

"You're hurt," the Doctor said, his eyes roving over her wrist, where her skin was marred by a purple-yellow bruise.

"It's nothing," she said sharply, not quite sure why she was talking to him.

He just watched her sadly. Lucy turned away. She didn't need his pity. She was queen of Earth.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he said quietly, as if it were his fault. "We can fix this—"

"—It doesn't need fixing," Lucy snapped. "I'm happy, got it? I have everything I've ever wanted. I belong here."

"That's not what it looks like to me."

"And what do you know about belonging?" she shot back. "He told me about your planet, how you destroyed it. Every place you ever go, you'll be an alien. Never one of them."

If the Doctor was shaken by these words, he dind't show it. Lucy suspected he'd heard it too often from his own conscience to be affected.

"On Christmas Day, I was on that space ship. They called me Earth's champion. I _am_ one of you. I've died nine times, Lucy, eight in defense of this little insignifigant blue planet in the unfashionable end of the galaxy. And do you know why?"

She shook her head, shocked by the fire that suddenly entered his entire being. She din't doubt for a moment the nickname her husband had used mockingly so often: the Oncoming Storm.

"Because humans _change. _They see what's wrong with their world and either fix it or adapt to it. They're not afraid to become something new. You see a hole in time and space and think: how can I open it? You see a planet impossibly close to a black hole and dig down to see what's holding it there. You can be cruel, you can be stupid but you admit to your faults. And that's why, at the end of the day, when everthing else was falling apart and every other race had given up that you looked for an escape."

"We became the Toclafane!"

He sucked in a deep breath.

"Yes, you did, but you survived when no one else could. And that's what's spectacular. You spread across the stars, Lucy, it's brilliant. But that will never happen if he succeeds. He hasn't chosen Earth for its people or its resources or its future. Even if I hadn't locked the coordinates, he still would have chosen Earth because _I _chose Earth for a surrogate home. But what he doesn't understand, what he can _never _understand is the human race. They'll save themselves, Lucy. And that was his mistake."

She had sat there, dumbfounded, for his entire speech. He truly believed that they would make it. For a beautiful, shingin moment, his chest swelled with hope.

"When the time comes, think of me," he said cryptically.

"I don't understand."

"You will, soon," he assured her. "Lucy, listen to me. You've done nothing wrong. You've survived, and tha'ts not your fault. You wouldn't have been able to sotp him. I'm sure you're a wonderful girl."

She looked at him, this odd, ancient man who her husband wanted to hurt and impress in equal measure, who dared hope when there was nothing left to hope for and silently nodded. When the time came, Lucy Saxon would be ready.


End file.
